


Back From the Abyss

by samsg1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Episode: s06e06 Abyss (Stargate), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sam and Jack Ship Day 2020 (Stargate), Suicide Attempt, samjackshipday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsg1/pseuds/samsg1
Summary: Sam finds Jack in his house about to commit suicide after the events of Abyss.Warning: starts off pretty dark, proceed with caution.Written for Sam and Jack Ship Day 2020Prompt: "Those things you said yesterday... did you mean them?"
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be considered within canon if you'd like, but feel free to read it as AU.  
> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

“What the hell, Jonas!?” Sam practically yelled down her phone. “You know he’s on suicide watch with his history! You know Janet made us promise not to let him be alone for one second as part of the condition for his release-”

“Yes, yes I know that Sam, but he practically threw me out of his house! He was watching to make sure I actually got in the taxi and left, he left me no choice!”

“What did you even say to him?!” she demanded.

“Does that even matter now? What are we going to do?”

“Well it’s too late to call Janet to get her round, and it’s a school night for Cassie. I’ll go round myself.”

“But he said he didn’t want to see you either, though,” Jonas mumbled.

“Well that’s just too bad for him. Anyway, unlike you, I’m not scared of the Colonel.”

“Hey, I’m not scared of Jack…,” she heard him rebuke.

“So why aren’t you there right now?” she inquired into her phone, unable to stop herself raising an eyebrow he wouldn’t even see.

“Well, he was yelling loudly and, well, okay, he got pretty scary.”

“You’re such a chickenshit, Jonas,” she said, smirking. “Okay I’ll text Janet that I’m relieving your watch early and call you if I need you. I’m getting on my bike now.”

“Okay, bye Sam. Good luck, I’m crossing all my fingers for you,” came his voice, and she could just imagine Jonas attempting to cross as many digits as he could as he often did in these situations. She smiled as she hung up before refocusing on her mission. Stifling a yawn, she quickly got out of bed, shoving on last night’s t-shirt and pants still in her laundry hamper, remembering to stuff her phone in her pants’ pocket, grabbed her bunch of keys and exited her house, hopping on her Indian. 

Under most circumstances she would have enjoyed the rush of speed, especially with tonight’s luck with the traffic lights. But she was about to face the Colonel. She recalled with a sting the last time she’d seen him in the infirmary four days ago: he’d been throwing abusive shouts at her for being the reason he’d been through hell and back for making him get ‘that damn snake in the first place.’ Since that low point he’d apparently made good progress with his withdrawal recovery but had very strongly insisted on being discharged home or apparently he was either going to go nuts or bust himself out. It seemed Janet had been forced to concede to the grumpy Colonel’s wishes, and he’d been permitted to leave only on the condition that someone stay with him at home the entire time for at least the first week. Herself, Teal’c, Jonas, Cassie (after school or on weekends) and Janet were to take shifts keeping him company. Still hurt from his words, however, Sam had been deliberately keeping her distance, making excuses about being caught up with work or dealing with the Tok’ra while she licked her wounds. It had been the hardest thing ever in her life to have had to witness the Colonel in the state he’d returned home in. The glimpses into his stint while captured by the System Lord Ba’al that she had pieced together from his delirious rants and rages had painted an absolutely heart-breaking picture that she couldn’t even begin to face herself, let alone help him recover from.

_”Over my dead body.”_

She recalled his words. He’d initially been entirely against the idea of blending with a Tok’ra to save his life after he’d gotten sick in Antarctica, but she’d begged him to live.

_”Sir, please.”_

She hadn’t been able to face losing him. And with hindsight, she now felt absolutely selfish and completely, one-hundred-per-cent responsible for his suffering.

\--------

Eight minutes later she was pulling up in front of his house. She typed a quick message to both Jonas and Janet saying where she was before killing the engine. It was near midnight. After the roars of her bike her ears were almost deafened by the sudden silence before the quiet chirps of crickets in his garden and the distant hum of a truck made their way into her ears. Her military-trained eyes quickly scanned his house for signs of life, stopping on a single low light in his living room. Trying his door and predictably finding it locked, she wondered whether to use the spare key she had for his house or whether to try knocking.

Before she had come to a decision the unmistakable sound of a handgun cocking made the choice for her, and in a blur of adrenaline she’d let herself into his house and burst into his living room before she’d even had the thought to voice her presence first.

She found him stooped on his couch, empty beer bottles scattered on the floor, and with a handgun held lazily in his hand.

“Sir!” she cried, her brain unable to produce anything else to say.

He looked up at her, making no attempt to hide his weapon. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. In fact, she saw that he wasn’t displaying any emotion at all.

“Carter, now’s not a good time,” he finally said towards the floor after a pause. His voice sounded lackluster, defeated, as though he didn’t want a fight. It scared her that he now seemed so withdrawn and helpless; the progress he’d been making as reported by the others seemed to have been undone. Or perhaps he’d just played them all well.

“Sir, why don’t you put the gun down?” Sam tried kindly, trying her best to mask the panic rising inside her. She watched as he sighed, unmoving. Afraid to make any attempt to step closer to him for fear he’d react defensively, she made the choice to stand in silence, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” came his eventual reply, similarly lackluster to before.

“Sir, it’s okay, I want to help.”

“Carter, there’s nothing you can do now GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” he bellowed as he suddenly stood up, facing her square on, gun still in hand. While she was glad to finally see some emotion out of him she could see what had scared Jonas off, the Colonel could certainly be intimidating. “In case you missed it, that was an order, _Major_ ,” he spat in fury when she didn’t move a muscle.

“No, Sir,” she rebuked with defiance. She worried that being insubordinate might trigger another rage like she’d seen him have in the observation room back at the SGC but at the same time there was no way in hell she was going anywhere and leaving the Colonel in this state. She’d faced worse off-world in the past six years, she could face him here, now.

He made a deliberately menacing cut into her personal space but she wouldn’t budge. At this close proximity, staring into his leering eyes, the smell of beer on his breath reaching her, she could feel the tingling sensation of her body’s reaction to the new naquadah in his blood. She saw the moment he had the same realisation in his eyes. He backed off with an expression of what looked like disgust- or even fear- and with quick-thinking she took advantage of this moment of weakness by making a grab for his gun, but he was too fast. She stumbled as he dodged, both snapping up in recovery, switching places with her now in front of the couch. He stared her down in silent anger.

“Talk to me Sir, please,” she pleaded, thinking that a more emotional tactic might work.

“Carter you don’t know, you just don’t KNOW!” he shouted angrily. 

“Then tell me, please.”

He started pacing the middle of his room, fiddling with the gun in hand. He was looking away when he made his quiet admission.

“All I see is _him_.”

“Ba’al?”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME!” he roared in fury, snapping his head back towards her. “And now _you_ feel like him, too!” he added with revulsion. “Just… just leave.”

“The naquadah,” she murmured, piecing together that sensing her would have made him flash back to being in close proximity to Ba’al.

She saw him wince and shake his head in remembarance.

“Sir, you’re home safe, alive. It’s over,” she tried, hoping to interrupt his flashback.

“It’s not over, Carter! It’s- it’s still happening in my head,” waving his gun-holding hand towards his head, making her jolt in panic. To her relief she saw him lower his arm back down. “I’m there all the time. I see him and his stupid smug grin as he…,” and she saw his eyes lower in shame. She decided not to say anything, not wanting to interrupt his confession. He might never open up again. “And now I have this damn crap in my blood,” he finally continued. “I have flashes of that traitor snake’s life in my head. I don’t feel like me.“ 

She knew the feeling well, her experience after Jolinar’s death had left her in shock and depressed as she’d struggled for almost two weeks to deal with the influx of memories and random emotions that had surged through her brain. She’d felt at times that she hadn’t known who she was anymore. Her heart broke for him, having to go through all that on top of being captured and being tortured.

“Or else I’m just there again in that damn dungeon,” he continued, interrupting her thoughts. “I can’t even sleep, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Sir, you know PTSD can cause flashbacks, we’ve both been through this before more than once. And recovered. And I felt exactly the same way after Jolinar-”

“Carter, I know what you’re saying but I don’t have the strength to go through this again. Not this time. Iraq was bad enough, and then Charlie took every ounce of strength left in me. I just don’t have it in me anymore.”

“But you’re not alone, let me be here for you, Sir.”

“Look,” he interrupted her, looking at her intensely for the first time, “maybe you know about the whole being snaked stuff, but you don’t know what it is to go through-,” he drew a breath, struggling to say what he clearly needed to let out. “To be killed over and over like that. To feel that much pain, to wish for your life to end just so it can be over. And you feel relief as you feel your life finally leaves your body and at last you don’t have to feel anything anymore... only you wake up in a damn sarcophagus and have to fucking go through it all over again.” She couldn’t stop tears from welling up in her eyes as he spoke. She was glad he was opening up to her but she was absolutely horrified by his words. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, and she felt like it was entirely her fault he’d had to go through this. “Nobody should know how that feels, Carter. To die and come back over and over. It isn’t human,” he whispered. “That damn sarcophagus took something away from me and that bastard took my life so many times I don’t even feel alive anymore.”

And she saw as he raised his gun towards his head and turned his attention towards it.

“Sir, wait!”

“Can you imagine how good it feels to know that if I pull this trigger right now, that I would actually die, _for real_ this time?” he said, ignoring her shout. “The relief I feel knowing I’m not gonna wake up in a sarcophagus this time? That it would just be- it?” and to her alarm she caught him smiling affectionately at the gun. The tears that had been threatening to fall now burst their banks, flooding down her face.

“I get it, Sir, I do! But you don’t have to do this! Please!” she begged.

“You better leave,” he warned, lowering his gun again but still keeping a tight grip. Panic was hammering away at her heart. She had to do something, fast! But making another move to swipe it wouldn’t work, she was going to have to keep him talking. Doing her beat to calm herself outwardly as much as possible she tried for the logical route, though she wasn't sure he was in any state to listen to reason. 

“This is just the trough, Sir. Janet said the withdrawal made your hormones crash, this depression is a normal part of the recovery. It’s just temporary! Daniel went through this, too, remember?”

“I can’t go another day, Carter!” he bellowed. “I can’t get it all out of my head! His damn face, people I don’t even know’s faces, they’re not me, _I’m_ not me! I can’t live like this!”

He began to raise his arm again, he was going to do it, she knew it, and throwing all caution to the wind, nothing to lose:

“But _I_ can’t live without _you_ , Sir!” she exclaimed, and she bridged the gap between them in a flash and put both her hands on his face. She pulled his gaze towards hers, compelling him to see her and not all the horrors in his head.

When he didn’t resist or make any move at all she whispered:

“Please don’t do this Jack,” tears still sliding down her face. 

Then summoning as much courage as she could, she added with a small voice, “I love you.” 

Their faces were still inches apart, eyes fixed on each other, neither moving. Another tear rolled down her cheek. 

After a long pause she heard him break the silence as he whispered, “Don’t waste your love on me, Sam. My past... it’s too dark. I’ll pull you down. You deserve better,” he finished bitterly, backing away.

It pained her to hear his words but she wouldn’t give up. Even if he’d given up on himself she wouldn’t let him give up on himself!

“I don’t care! I know you, I know all about you, and I _know_ you’re all I want,” she answered confidently, stepping back towards him. She had to make him believe her. Anything to stop him from ending his life like this. And unable to think of any other way, deciding she’d rather be thrown in jail than live her life without him in it, in one tiptoe motion, she pulled him down by the neck of his t-shirt and their lips pressed together.

He didn’t react at first to the connection, and just as she thought he might be about to push her away, to her intense relief and with a jolt of pleasure she felt as he began to slowly return the kiss. Grabbing her chance, eyes still closed, she uncupped one of his cheeks and took the handgun from his now-loose grip, and replaced the safety single-handedly before tossing it onto the couch behind her.

Returning her attention to the kiss, she pulled his entire body into her, deliberately pressing her breasts into his chest, wanting him to feel grounded and safe; not holed up alone in some nightmare prison across the galaxy. She deepened the kiss and tried to pour all the heat and energy she had burning within her into him, wanting to rekindle a lust for life in him through her lips.

A tingling developed over her body- not only from the reaction to his naquadah; a deep, physical need for him was making her insides squirm and twitch with desire. She wanted him. She wanted to physically feel that he was alive and back and that it wasn’t her fault he’d been lost. She wanted to be able to push away her guilt and lose herself in his embrace. She wanted to hold him and make him feel safe and warm inside her own intimate embrace. 

The pace of the kiss slowed. Regaining some sense, she decided to break it and pull back enough to gauge his expression.

She found his eyes difficult to read; his face was certainly flushed, though. At least he didn’t look disgusted at their proximity this time. No, no, definitely not, she thought, as she saw traces of her own desire mirrored back in his own, darkening eyes.

“Carter,” he growled, “I know what you’re trying to do here…”

“And is it working?”

She watched as he seemed to be waging an internal battle. He didn’t answer, so she decided to test the waters by running her hands over the grey Air Force t-shirt he was wearing, caressing his chest mounds and tracing his ribs. She found herself wishing she’d had one of the beers that now lay empty on his floor. Truthfully, she wasn’t normally this good at, well, this kind of seductive thing, but this was a life or death situation, regs and inhibitions be damned. When he didn’t resist her touch, she bravely chanced slipping her hands under his shirt, the friction of his coarse chest hairs generating heat under her fingers and in other certain parts of her own body. 

“Carter…” his voice rumbled, but she didn’t get the impression that he was protesting, so she continued.

“Let me help you, Sir,” she purred, mustering all the courage she could. “Let me make you feel alive,” and she pressed her body into him. Tiptoeing up again, she whispered into his ear, “Let me make you feel human again.” 

He quickly turned his face to hers and she was rewarded with a glimpse of a smile on his lips before he caught her own lips in a very passionate kiss.

‘Oh, it’s definitely working’, she thought to herself. Wow, could Jack O’Neill kiss! Waves of hot pleasure lashed through her insides in time with his darts of tongue and roaming hands across her back, pressing her into him further. He kissed her with the ferocity and energy of a man whose life depended on it. Hell, she thought, _it did_. With a jolt of anticipation she felt as his fingers tugged on her shirt’s hem before deftly removing it up and over her head in one movement, tossing it aside. The action had parted their kiss and to her satisfaction she caught him admiring her body and the sports bra she’d been wearing in bed that evening. 

She decided to return the favour and remove his own t-shirt, purposefully planting kisses all over his torso, wanting to show him tenderness and affection after all his experiences of pain and suffering in capture. She closed her eyes, running her nose through his greying chest hairs, reveling in his smell. She could almost feel the pounding of his heart hammering along with his sharp, shallow breaths.

His hands reached out to cup her face, pulling her back up to his level. Her eyes fluttered open to see his own boring into hers wordlessly, filled with unbridled passion and need.

“Bed.” 

That was all he needed to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! I'm posting this today as Ship Day is on July 28th and I'm hoping to get the second and last chapter written in the next two days! Comments and kudos welcome of course!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit more fluffy and less realistic for the beginning of a true PTSD recovery, of which I have zero personal experience by the way, so please take his seemingly magical recovery with a pinch of salt and just enjoy the story ;)

_Her eyes fluttered open to see his own boring into hers wordlessly, filled with unbridled passion and need._

_“Bed.”_

_That was all he needed to say._

\--------------

A movement startled Sam awake in the darkness. She could feel the Colonel’s naked form beside hers, deducing that he was currently lying on his side with his back to her. With a jolt and a smile she recalled the events earlier in the night; how he’d led her to his room, how they’d hurriedly undressed each other and how she had submitted to him and allowed him to assume control and to pour himself into her. It hadn’t been a gentle love-making, it had been a raw and revitalizing coition; both desperately seeking reassurance and confirmation that the other was alive and real.

She turned herself to cradle him, laying with her nose nested in the nape of his neck, enjoying his musky, post-coital sweaty smell and listening to the pattern of his soft breathing in the silence. Then without warning, the Colonel took a sharp intake of breath and gave a start, thrashing out his arms and legs.

“If I knew the name I’d give you the damn name!” he bellowed.

“Sir, it’s okay,” she whispered soothingly, rubbing his arm and back, dotting kisses along his shoulders.

He turned his body to her with a startle, the dim light of the window behind her gently illuminating his face. She saw that his features were of fear, his narrowed, glazed eyes staring unseeing.

“Don’t!” he shouted, before locking frenzied eyes on her and clasping his hands tight around her throat. There was a struggle as she tried to push him off her, gasping in a vain attempt to voice his name. She was knocked back off the bed, and as he gave chase she scrambled quickly to turn on the bedside lamp’s switch, stunning him back to his senses. She saw the revelation of what he’d done in his now lit-up face as it morphed from fury into horror in an instant.

“Shit, Sam!” he cried, backing away off the bed, standing up rigid in naked shock. Sam took the moment to grab the white sheet off the bed and pull it over her in modesty as she sat up, giving a cough and panting to get her breath back.

“S’okay, Sir- not your, fault,” she spluttered, touching her neck in instinctive comfort.

“No, it’s not okay, Carter, I hurt you! I just tried to kill you, for cryin’ out loud!” he exclaimed before bending down to grab the pair of boxers off the floor that had been tossed aside there hours before, pulling them on. 

“I’m okay now, just come back to bed,” she soothed, breath returned now, and she slipped back under the cover of his bed, patting his side in invitation. She was scared the situation might escalate into a blow-out and imagined him spiralling back down in an abyss of guilt and self-blame. She also wasn’t ready to lose the closeness she’d shared with him all night, either. 

To her great relief, she saw as he complied and climbed back into bed to join her.

“I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep now, you know. What if I go killer zombie on you again?”

“It’s fine Sir, I can handle it.”

He paused for a moment, perhaps judging that she could.

“Okay, and secondly," she now saw that he was smirking, "how do you expect me to even sleep when you’re stark-naked in my bed?” 

“Is that a problem?” she murmured flirtatiously, face blushing hot, and scooched over on the bed to him until their bodies were touching.

“Well....” and she saw as his expression turned serious in the glow of the lamp, “I hate to break the mood, but we crossed a serious line last night.”

She shuffled back towards her side of the bed, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her nakedness. 

“I know, Sir, but can we at least just have tonight?” hoping he’d agree and that this wouldn’t become an awkward situation.

She saw him nod his consent- to her relief- before he added darkly, “I’m sorry for how you saw me last night. For what I was about to do.”

Sam didn’t answer. She couldn’t think of anything to say to reassure him. It had been one of the most frightening things she’d ever seen, even in six years of off-world missions. The sight of the Colonel being on the brink of ending his own life… that was something she never wanted to relive again. 

She merely turned into him, laying her hand across his chest tenderly and bringing her face to his, their lips meeting. They shared a slow, gentle kiss; one of apology and understanding as well her gratitude that he was alive.

The kiss ended, to Sam's dismay. There was an unsaid mutual agreement that this intimacy would probably only be permitted tonight, and she wanted to drink in all that she could. She saw the Colonel look into her eyes with unguarded warmth, perhaps he was thinking the same thing?

"Sam... can I ask something? Those things you said yesterday... did you mean them? Or were you just saying anything to stop me from… you know?”

_”I can’t live without you, Sir!”_  
_”I love you.”_

He was asking if she’d meant those words. She considered her answer. Of course she had but could she admit that? But then she didn’t want to make him feel that he was lied to, or to let him believe that she was simply using her body or his own feelings against him, when it had in fact meant so much more to her. But he was still her commanding officer even if he was on temporary medical leave until his recovery, what she’d done had risked their careers not to mention their future working relationship...

“Carter, I can practically hear the cogs whirring in your head,” he joked.

“Sorry Sir,” and she couldn’t help giggling.

“Hey, what do I always say about giggling?” he quipped, earning a further bout of giggling. “Okay, I deserve that, I probably shouldn’t have asked. But for what it’s worth-,” and he scooped his arm around the back of her head, planting a tender kiss into her hair before whispering softly, “-me too.” 

\-------

Following a disturbed night’s sleep of soothing and comforting the Colonel’s frequent nightmares, a different sound now roused Sam. She noticed the reams of daylight now streaming into the room, making her squint and rub her eyes. The Colonel was still sound asleep beside her, mostly hidden under the blanket. 

The thumping sound of feet padding across another room in the house made her sit up in surprise. ‘Oh crap,’ Sam thought, and before she could form a plan or react, the sound of the footsteps increased in haste and the next moment the door burst open and Janet came in shouting, “Colonel O’Neill!”

She saw as her friend’s eyes quickly locked on her, eyes widening in shock at the scene. There was no hiding what had transpired here from her friend, she thought. Sam could only draw the bed cover higher over herself, wishing a black hole would appear and swallow her. She could feel her face burning hot with embarrassment.

“Doc, bit early in the morning for a house call, isn’t it?” came the Colonel’s sleepy voice from below the covers.

“I’m sorry guys,” Janet finally recovered enough to say. “I just got Jonas and Sam’s messages from last night and I couldn’t get a hold of either of you and then I saw a gun on the couch and I panicked.”

“Yeah it’s a long story,” started Sam. “And I guess we must have left our phones in the living room when we-”

“Decided to sleep together?” finished Janet, knowingly.

“Oh god,” said Sam as she wondered if her face could possibly turn a deeper shade of red. Where was a gravitational singularity when you needed one?

“Well, it’s not exactly what the doctor ordered,” said Janet, raising her eyebrow with an equally smug face to match the one the Colonel was currently wearing, sitting himself up against the headboard, “but looking at the Colonel it would at least appear to have had some positive effect. Don’t worry, I’m not saying anything. I’ll leave you two to it and put some coffee on for you,” and she closed the door on them.

“Busted,” quipped Jack.

‘Trust Janet to pick up Daniel’s mantle of interrupting at the wrong time,’ thought Sam to herself.

“Glad it was Janet and not Jonas,” she said.

“Glad it was Janet and not Hammond,” he rectified, and he laughed at her gasp of horror at the thought.

“I’d better get dressed,” she decided, starting to get up and feeling relief as the Colonel chose to look away, allowing her some privacy to dress.

“And Sam-” Janet said reappearing in the doorway, and she hastened to cover herself up, still completely naked.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?!” Sam said irritably, hearing the Colonel snigger behind her.

“Yeah, you do need to work on your bedside, or should I say, bedroom manner there, Doc,” he jibed.

“Sorry Sam, it’s just, aren’t you supposed to be on base from nine? It’s already eight-thirty.”

“Ah crap. Yes, thanks,” she replied, throwing out her hands to catch the object that Janet had suddenly tossed towards her.

“And thought you might need this,” she added, giving a wink, before shutting the door once again. Sam looked down recognizing her own t-shirt that had been discarded in the living room the previous night.

Sam hurried to dress, turning her panties inside out- not that it made much difference in how soiled they felt after last night’s _excitement_ \- and doing her best to look and feel as presentable as possible under the circumstances. She also wanted to ensure there was enough time to have a private talk with the Colonel before she’d have to leave, calculating she’d need an estimated fifteen minutes to bike to the base from the Colonel’s house to be able to clock in on-time . She’d never made the trip to the base directly from his house before.

Turning slowly to the Colonel, checking he was finished dressing- he was; in what she recognised were a fresh t-shirt and pair of pants he must have pulled from his closet. ‘Cheater,’ she thought with amusement.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the talk. 

“Sir, none of this has to leave this room, or, well, house.”

She saw as he raised an eyebrow in memory of the last time she’d used the same phrase.

“That’s not gonna get old, is it?” he replied.

“No Sir, not until this war is over it's probably not,” she replied glumly. Who knew how long this war against the Goa’uld would last? Who knew if they would even survive to see the end of it, and even have a chance at being together?

“Duty first," he acquiesced. "Right, Major?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said wanly, unable to muster up a brave soldier act. There would have been no fooling him, anyway. There was no pretending that she hadn’t told him she couldn’t live without him last night. No denying that she'd told him she loved him. And there was no glossing over the fact that she had practically thrown herself at him and allowed him to undress her and that they'd had sex together right in this bed.

She saw the Colonel stride his way around the offending bed until he was square in front of her before saying, “C’mere,” and she allowed him to envelop her in a tender embrace. She buried her face into the crux of his arm, reveling in the last bit of closeness they would permit themselves before she’d be back on duty and they’d be forced to compartmentalize their feelings all over again and pretend that nothing had happened. Just like after the Za’tarc incident. Just like after P3R-118. Damn this war.

“Are we gonna be okay, Sir?” she dared to ask aloud.

“Of course we are. Always,” came his quiet answer, as he squeezed her closer.

“Are _you_ gonna be okay, Sir?” she chanced.

After a pause came his honest answer, “Thanks to you, Sam. Thank you for helping me feel human, again,” and he loosened the hug to place a single kiss on the top of her head.

She took that as her cue to step away and nod, before leaving him in the bedroom, and as she grabbed her keys and phone from the living room table another glint of metal caught her eye.

“I’d make sure that gets back in its lockbox and well-hidden, Janet,” she said, indicating the gun on the couch to her friend. 

She saw as Janet nodded her comprehension from across in the kitchen, where she was currently pouring cups of coffee. She’d have to settle for base coffee, Sam thought with a sigh, seeing the time on her phone.

As she headed for the front door she looked back to see the Colonel emerge from his bedroom, giving another yawn. Trying to push away dangerous thoughts of how sexy he looked first thing in the morning in this domestic state, and how she wished she could wake up next to him in his bed _every_ morning, she went for a simple and safe, “Bye, Colonel.”

“Bye, Major,” he replied automatically.

Their eye contact held a little longer than would have been expected from any other ‘Colonel’ and ‘Major’ greeting each other in farewell. She saw there was a sadness and longing in his gaze, and she tried her best to reply to his unsaid pain by conveying hope and promise in her own eyes. ‘Someday, Jack, just hang in there and get better,’ she thought.

She got on her bike, backed it out of the drive, and as the initial roar of life from the engine settled, she heard the Colonel’s teasing voice come through a window: “Hey, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, you know!”

And with thoughts of the Colonel’s kisses accompanying her and making her feel quite warm on this chilly morning, she sped off with another rev of her engine: back to duty, back to the life where she couldn't have him. 

But she hoped, as she saw Cheyenne Mountain come speeding into view, that she'd given him just enough. A reason to live. Something to fight for. Something worth dragging himself back from the abyss for.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and happy Sam/Jack Ship Day 2020!


End file.
